Chapter: 01

Prologue

Under a pitch-black night sky, heavy rain poured down in thick sheets.
Beneath it, a scene reminiscent of hell itself unfolded—a living pandemonium.

It was the war between the Murim Alliance, formed by the Nine Great Sects and the Five Noble Families, and the demonic faction known as the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.

Deep within the Tian Mountains (天山), the stronghold of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, the forces of the Nine Sects and Five Families had stormed in.

Urgh—!

Heukcheon Biyeon spat up the blood rising in her throat, crimson spilling from her lips.

So this is the end.

The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult had fallen into decline. Ever since the previous cult leader—the one known as the Heavenly Demon—had vanished a hundred years ago, cracks and internal strife had plagued it endlessly. Perhaps this outcome had been inevitable.

After shedding countless rivers of blood, she had finally risen to the position of Cult Leader… only to end here.

Once she and the Four Demon Lords who followed her lost their lives, the demonic cult would likely never recover.

“Cult Leader! Do not grieve! If Iron-Blooded Demon Emperor Ak Dupyeong accompanies you to the afterlife, surely it won’t be lonely! Hahaha!”

Even while coughing up a mouthful of blood, the Iron-Blooded Demon Emperor laughed boldly. At the sight, Biyeon let out a faint chuckle.

Half of his body was made of metal, yet even he could not endure the agony of the formation deployed by the Murim Alliance. Though he laughed, his face was twisted grotesquely in pain.

“It’s about time I was freed from this wretched mortal world.”

Mancheon Doksu Sama Wi, a master of poison arts who had lived for 120 years, smiled calmly with his deeply wrinkled face and settled into a cross-legged position.

“If I’d known it’d end like this, I would’ve drained my fill of yang energy yesterday.”

Hwanyun, the practitioner of the Phantasmal Yin Demonic Art—far too alluring and beautiful to be called a man—let blood trickle from his crimson-stained lips.

They were the Four Demon Lords—elite warriors of the demonic cult who had stood against the Murim Alliance under Biyeon’s command.

Yet even they could not overcome the overwhelming numerical disadvantage and the barrier formed by the Murim Alliance’s sect leaders.

It was a perfect defeat.

At that moment, someone collapsed to one knee before Biyeon.

“It was an honor to serve you… my lord.”

Surageomma Mu Jong—the most loyal among the Four Demon Lords—knelt on one knee, fist pressed to his chest. It was the salute offered to the Cult Leader of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.

Because he had practiced forbidden martial arts, Surageomma’s face had been ruined, forcing him to wear a mask. Yet the eyes visible beneath it still burned fiercely.

Seeing his salute, the other Demon Lords—who had been coughing blood on the ground—somehow gathered their strength and pressed their fists to their hearts as well.

The sight made Biyeon’s mouth taste bitter.

Idiots.

Looking at her subordinates, whose bodies were crumbling into dust, Biyeon scoffed bitterly.

May these fools, who knew nothing but martial arts, live freely in their next lives.

She hoped so—if only in her heart.

Before she realized it, her gaze shifted to the one responsible for driving them into this state.

The single man who had held back the enemy long enough for the righteous leaders to complete their barrier.

Now, like her, trapped within the formation and coughing up dark red blood.

The only righteous-path master besides herself to reach the Realm of Manifestation—Namgung Hwi—was looking at her.

From beginning to end, he had been someone she was destined to cross blades with.

Her sole equal.
And the enemy who had driven them all to their deaths.

Their gazes collided in silence.

If you and I had walked the same path… would the ending have been different?

Biyeon scoffed.

No—if not for you, I wouldn’t be who I am today.

It had been a cruel, agonizing, and lonely road. But she had endured it with one single obsession—surpassing him.

To surpass him.
To remain the strongest in Murim.

Kugh—!

With the sensation of her insides boiling, dark blood streamed down from beneath her chin.

Namgung Hwi was in the same condition.

As masters of the Realm of Manifestation, they had lasted longer than the Four Demon Lords—but it was clear that they, too, would soon crumble into dust.

Even as her fingertips began to scatter into nothingness, Biyeon refused to release the sword in her grip. She charged forward and slashed at Namgung Hwi.

Clang—!

Their blades collided. Though his body was breaking apart just like hers, he didn’t even blink as he met her strike—truly befitting Namgung Hwi.

Biyeon curled her blood-soaked lips into a bitter smile.

“Seems we won’t see the end again this time.”

Her sword trembled violently, yet she did not withdraw it as she scoffed.

“In our next lives… let’s not meet, Namgung Hwi.”

She offered her final farewell.

For the first time, a crack appeared in Namgung Hwi’s emotionless face.

“I’ll find you even in hell, Heukcheon.”

Hearing him call her by her epithet, his lips curling despite the blood pooled there, Biyeon let out a quiet chuckle.

Typical of you.

She watched as Namgung Hwi’s shoulder crumbled into dust and scattered into the air.

Her own arm followed suit.

Gazing at the remnants of both herself and Namgung Hwi dispersing into nothingness, Biyeon scoffed softly.

Well… no regrets.

She had lived fiercely and stubbornly. It was all right to rest now.

Biyeon gave Namgung Hwi one final, refreshing smile.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Namgung Hwi’s eyes shook violently at the sight.

Good riddance, Namgung Hwi.

If we meet again in the next life—

Then surely…
Surely…

Biyeon’s thoughts did not continue.

As her remnants scattered completely into the void, Namgung Hwi reached out his hand.

But all that remained in his grasp was ash-like residue.

Staring blankly at his empty hand, Namgung Hwi slowly closed his eyes.

Not long after Biyeon vanished, Namgung Hwi too crumbled into the air, as though following her.

Thus, the final sky of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult—Heukcheon Biyeon—and her eternal enemy, Namgung Hwi, closed their eyes together at the same moment.

From the black heavens, rain poured down ceaselessly, like endless tears.

* * *

Splash—!

Drenched by a sudden deluge of water, Biyeon snapped her eyes open in shock.

“Cough, cough!”

Before she could even gather her bearings, she saw a strangely dressed woman looking down at her arrogantly.

I’m alive…?

Did the righteous faction spare me and bring me here?

Biyeon swiftly scanned her surroundings, sensing for presences.

Aside from the oddly dressed woman before her, there seemed to be no guards or assassins nearby.

Leaving me unguarded like this…?

She hurriedly tried to circulate her internal energy—but failed. As expected, her dantian had been destroyed.

Curses rose to her throat, but escaping this place came first.

Before a stronger expert appeared, she would subdue that woman and flee.

As Biyeon organized her thoughts, her gaze fell upon an old mirror lying on a rickety table.

“What are you dawdling for? Getting soaked didn’t knock some sense into you?”

The moment the woman finished speaking, Biyeon moved.

Though her movements were no longer infused with internal energy, they were still swift by ordinary standards.

In an instant, Biyeon smashed the mirror on the table, grabbed a shard of glass, and swept the woman’s legs out from under her.

“Kyah—!”

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

The woman, who didn’t even understand why she had fallen, stared up at the girl straddling her.

Biyeon’s hand—blood dripping from it—pressed the shard of glass threateningly against the woman’s neck.

“How many experts above the peak realm are stationed here?”

It was a question meant to assess the enemy’s strength before killing her.

But the woman merely trembled, her face blank with fear.

“P-peak realm experts…? I—I don’t even know what that means…”

Is she pretending?

Biyeon pressed the glass harder. Blood welled on the woman’s skin.

Terrified, the woman burst into tears.

“P-please spare me! I really don’t know!”

…Is she truly just an ignorant servant?

At that moment, something felt off to Biyeon.

The arm and hand pinning the woman down felt unusually short and small.

Only then did her gaze fall upon the shard of mirror she was holding.

Reflected in it was the face of a girl who looked barely ten years old.

“……?”